Coming Home
by Knights of Cydonian Starlight
Summary: You don't know what you have until you  nearly  lose it. Adorable Pair AU fic. A 9/11 tribute. God bless the victims. God bless New York. God bless America.
1. Coming Home

Sara: Hello everyone. It's September 11, 2011, ten years after the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the crashing of Flight 93. So many people died that day, so we decided to write a little fic to remember the victims of the attacks. It's Adorable Pair because we sort of promised to write a fic for them.

Sky: Even though I'm English I find the attacks so sad. I pray for the victims and their families and anyone who was affected that day.

Sara: This fic is kinda based on my father's experiences on September 11. It hits so close to home because I live in New Jersey, and I could have lost both of my parents that day. God bless America.

Disclaimer: We don't own Prince of Tennis.

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><p>Coming Home<br>Chapter 1: Coming Home

_September 11, 2001. I don't think anyone will ever forget that day, whether they are New Yorkers, Americans, or even Japanese. _

_September 11, 2001 was the day I nearly lost my heart. _

_September 11, 2001 was the day I nearly lost my other half._

_September 11, 2001 was the day I nearly lost my Keigo._

./. .\.

It was Monday. I hate Mondays. Monday is the day that I have to go to university, the day I have to sit in a stuffy classroom and try not to fall asleep when I'm taking notes or listening to the teacher drone on about something I already know about.

But the worst of all, most Mondays are when my Keigo has to go away.

After graduating from Hyotei High School, Keigo's father passed away. An undiagnosed clot in his brain, the doctors said, that could rupture at any time. Keigo stayed home with his mother for weeks until she stopped crying.

The will was examined about a month later. The houses, cars, etc. would go to Keigo's mother, and the Atobe Corporation would go to Keigo.

He decided to leave a company in the hands of an eighteen-year-old boy.

Keigo did what most boys in his position would do: He didn't go to college, didn't even go to any of his classes, and took over the company for his dead father.

I have to admit that he was a good leader, all cockiness aside. He was firm and authoritative and polite (yes, even I am shocked) when he needed to be. Most of the workers in the Atobe Corporation decided that he was a considerably better CEO than his father, even though he was two and a half times younger.

Keigo was able to expand the company when he was only nineteen. That year it was China. The next, Korea, and so on.

This year it was America, New York to be exact. Keigo had managed to find a nice office in the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. I had seen the place many times in pictures, New York City. It's nice. Keigo said that he would take me there one day. He said that there were doctors there that could treat me for my sleeping problem… narcolepsy, isn't it called? I can never remember.

Oh, you're probably wondering about our relationship, right? It was an accidental thing, actually. A few years ago, when we were twenty-one, Keigo was cracking under the pressure of owning one of Japan's largest companies, and I just happened to be there when he broke down. I had cried with him because I had never seen my Buchou so distressed before, and we've been inseparable ever since.

I moved into his Tokyo penthouse suite last month. There were still boxes that I needed to unpack, but I said to the servants that they should not to touch them. I told Keigo that it was because I wanted to keep our relationship 'fresh'.

I was always afraid that he will leave me. Keigo was the only person who had ever known about my sleeping problems and tolerated them. Even Oshitari got aggravated if I would fall asleep in the middle of his lecturing me. I couldn't ever be alone, and I refused to go to a hospital.

I was always afraid.

./. .\.

I woke up early Monday morning. When was the last time I woke up early? I thought groggily. If I had the choice I would stay in bed all day.

The other side of the bed was empty, and I sighed. It was five o'clock in the morning, so I assumed that Keigo was already reading the newspaper with a mug of coffee in his perfectly manicured hand. I showered, got dressed, and trudged to the kitchen to join him.

"You're up early, Jiroh," he commented and looked at me over his paper. He sipped his premium quality coffee – ore-sama doesn't drink instant – and waved to the chair next to him. I sat in said chair and played with my scrambled eggs, waiting for him to say something.

"It's Monday," I finally muttered after the silence between us became oppressive. He merely nodded.

"You're going today, aren't you." My voice was flat, no question in it whatsoever. He nodded again, and I sighed. That meant I would have to spend the next two or three days in an empty suite with no one but the occasional servant and house keeping to keep me company.

"I have to, Jiroh," Keigo said in exasperation. "It's my job. Itsuki is sick and I need to attend some meetings in New York for him."

I sighed again – it seems like I'd been doing that a lot lately.

"I just miss you. I wish you didn't have to go so often."

His expression softened and he put down the newspaper. He took my hand in his, and I leaned into that touch softened by aloe infused lotion. He hadn't touched me this way in a long time, had barely laid a finger on me since he'd been so busy. Most nights I went to bed and found him still awake several hours later.

I wondered if I shouldn't have moved in with him. It was so much more comfortable when I was still living at home and Keigo would actually make an effort to be romantic. Now our relationship was empty silences and annoyed glances.

"I love you, Keigo," I murmured, looking into his gray eyes hopefully.

"I love you too, Jiroh."

He rewarded me with a chaste kiss on the lips, and I wanted to do nothing but make the kiss longer and deeper. But of course, he pulled away before I had a chance to do so.

"I have to go," he said, his eyes still soft. I still couldn't get over how different he looks when he stared at me like this; it was like he became a whole new person. I hugged him around the waist and wished I never had to let go.

"I'll be back on Wednesday morning. Just three days, Jiroh. And I promise I'll make it up to you then, okay?"

I barely heard the words, just buried my face into his chest.

After a few minutes he pried me off of him and held me at arm's length. I felt like I was on the verge of crying, but I was so unwilling to do so in front of him. Ore-sama might not think of me as worthy of his prowess if I did so. At least I had Wednesday to look forward to.

I didn't see him off that day. I never had before, because I was always afraid I'd break down in front of him.

Oh how I'd come to regret that decision.

./. .\.

After Keigo left, I got ready for school. What did I have today… psychology? Was that it? I didn't even know why I went to class anymore, because with my problem I couldn't do anything anyway. I'd just be a dead weight on Keigo and eventually he'd leave me…

No, idiot! What was I thinking? Keigo loved me, he said so all the time…

_Ahh, but why hasn't he touched you in a month?_ a nasty voice whispered in my ear. _He leaves you so often that he could have lovers in every city for all you know!_

I was crying, I realized. I was crying and I was hurting so bad. All different kinds of hurts, too. It was like my body was pulling itself in a whole bunch of directions at once, and it was ripping me apart.

I walked to school because I didn't want the chauffer to see me cry so he could report it to Keigo. If I could have one wish, just one wish, I would wish that I knew if Keigo really loved me.

./. .\.

Narcolepsy really is a pain sometimes. I fell asleep during class at least a dozen times (and I got a smack with a ruler at least dozen times, courtesy of my professor), woke up shrieking because of a dream, and was sent out of the class because I had 'disrupted the lesson'. Yeah, narcolepsy really sucks.

But I was home. I was home and I could collapse in bed and sleep in peace until I had to start all over again tomorrow.

I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the mattress – gee, Keigo can really pick out great (but expensive) things. I had no trouble falling asleep and succumbed to the world of dreams almost instantly.

_I am walking through a field – a field? I wonder. I've never seen a field in Tokyo before. The grass is lush and comes up to my ankles, and I can feel crickets brush over my bare feet. The sky is the loveliest shade of blue, and I tip my face towards the sun. It's so beautiful here, I think. _

_I've been here once. I remember Keigo taking the tennis team here once for some training. I don't remember that much since I'd been asleep the whole time, but it's hard not to remember something as beautiful as this._

_I don't know where I'm walking. It's like something in my subconscious is telling me where to go, like how a salmon knows how to swim back to the river in which it was born. I guess that's what happens when you dream._

_My subconscious takes me to a huge tree in the middle of the field. I slept in the shade here once, I think, while the others were running through the grass._

_As I walk closer, I can see something nailed into the bark of the tree. It looks oddly like a plaque, like the ones you find on park benches. It's odd that I found one in the middle of nowhere, though._

_I'm finally close enough so that I can read the sign. I have to squint because the plaque is already covered with dirt and rust. It says:_

_Atobe Keigo  
><em>_October 5, 1976-September 11, 2001  
><em>_A beloved son, partner, and friend._

I woke up and screamed.

./. .\.

It took a while for me to calm down, as it usually did when I had a nightmare. I hadn't had one in ages, so this one particularly frightened me. I looked at the clock beside the bed. 9:46, it read. Oh shit, I was late for my first class.

I decided to skip class for today. I was still tired and I obviously wouldn't be able to concentrate with the nightmare on my mind, so I decided not to even try. Keigo would probably chew me out for it later, but I didn't care.

I ate some breakfast, I slept, I studied, I slept again. It was a pretty relaxing day, I thought. Well, except for the nightmares.

I kept having the same one over and over again. Walking through the field. Relishing in the warmth, the light, the beauty. And then walking up to my lover's grave, already worn and old and forgotten. _What does it mean?_ I asked myself. _Today is September 11, 2001. Are the dreams some sort of premonition? Or is it just my imagination getting out of hand?_

I dismissed the first thought and, after a while, the second. I'd never had much of an imagination before.

It was 9:46 again, except this time it was pitch black outside. There were days during the summer when at this time it would still be light out, but those days were long gone. Soon it would be time to turn on the heater again.

Tired of sleeping and eating and studying, I turned on the TV. It was already set to a news channel, probably from when Keigo was last home. I made a move to change it since the news almost always depresses me, but the image on the screen made me freeze and made the breath catch in my throat.

Two towers stood straight and tall among the rest of the skyline I had seen in so many pictures before. It looked like a beautiful day in New York City, sunny with a thin veil of clouds, but something dark began to swirl in the sky.

The buildings were the Twin Towers. And one of them was smoking.

I don't know what I thought in those few moments when I watched the North Tower get hit. I suppose I was worried, and shocked, and panicked, but too much adrenaline was pumping through my body for me to notice.

_Keigo._

I fumbled with my phone and somehow managed to dial the right number.

"C'mon, c'mon…" I muttered, bouncing on the couch and praying that he would pick up.

_Hello, this is Atobe Keigo…_

"Keigo!" I sighed in relief. "Did you hear the news? Were you at the office? I was so worried!"

_Please leave your name and number after the beep, and ore-sama will return the call as soon as possible. _

"Oh."

Keigo always picks up his phone, I thought. Always. If not he would call back in a second.

So I called Oshitari. He knew Keigo even better than me.

He picked up after the first ring.

"Jiroh," he greeted curtly, not sounding worried at all. "Have you seen the news?"

"Yes, Yuushi. Could you get into contact with Keigo?"

"No," he replied. "All mobile service in New York City has been temporarily shut down."

I bit my lip and twisted a lock of hair around my finger. "Thanks, Yuushi," I finally murmured into the phone.

"Call me if you hear anything, okay?"

I said okay and hung up.

./. .\.

The second plane crashed into the South Tower seventeen minutes later, at 9:03 AM EST. I'll never forget the sounds that I heard at that time; it was a melody of screeching metal and the collective groan of the people of New York City.

Keigo still hadn't called back, and I had taken to pacing across the living room floor.

"Master Jiroh, may I help you…?" one of the servants whose name I cannot recall asked nervously. He was a nervous man, always wringing his hands and speaking in a quivering tone.

"Get in contact with Keigo," I snapped back. My body was tensed up like a coil, and the servant flinched at my harsh tone.

"Yes, Master." He bowed and left.

The South Tower collapsed around ten o'clock, and the North Tower at ten-thirty, Eastern Standard Time. All the while the anchormen and women were shouting that subways and trains and planes and busses were inoperable at the moment.

_And Keigo's private jet_, I thought I was glued to the television screen.

Would he be able to get back? Would he be hurt? Or is he already…?

I decided not to think about it.

./. .\.

September 11, 2001 was by far the longest day of my life. I continued pacing around the suite for hours until my legs gave out, and even then I kept fidgeting on the couch.

I could still hear screaming ringing in my ears. For those who didn't want to die by burns or the buildings' collapsing, they threw themselves out of windows, some of which were over one hundred stories high. They screamed as they fell to their deaths.

The television was turned off now.

./. .\.

Five, six, maybe seven hours had passed since the towers fell. I was fighting the sleep that insistently made me yawn and made my eyelids droop, but I drank coffee and took my stimulants to keep me awake. I wanted to be lucid if… no _when_ Keigo would come through those doors.

He didn't come.

./. .\.

I cried that night, the whole night. I cried the tears of a child at first, hysterical sobs racking my chest and making me tremble. Then I cried the tears of a man, grievous and heartbroken.

After I stopped crying, Keigo came home.

I hadn't heard him at first – he can really be a ghost sometimes. I was still curled up on the couch, the occasional sob breaking through my chest, tears dried on my face. When a hand reached out to comfort me, I took no notice of it.

"Jiroh…"

My head snapped up at the sound of that voice. It was soft and scared like the voice of someone who had just escaped death.

Well, in a sense he had.

"K-Keigo!" I stammered. It sounded more like a croak, though, because of all the crying earlier.

Keigo's hair was nearly as white as his face. The silver locks were covered with plaster and dust, as was the rest of his outfit. It seemed like ore-sama was too traumatized to wash up before coming home. If I weren't so relieved I would have found it comical.

His eyes were something I also couldn't forget about that day. One moment they were dull, dead, lifeless… and the next they were loving and kind and caring, and my heart swelled so much that I thought it would burst out of my chest.

He took me in a rib-cracking, spine-snapping hug, and I returned it with as much force as he had. I breathed in the scent of his cologne and breath spray and the plaster in his hair.

We didn't have to speak or kiss like some couples do when they are reunited. We both knew what we wanted to say, to do, and we were fine with just knowing.

It was Keigo who finally broke the silence, his voice like a siren song.

"I'm home, Jiroh," he whispered in my ear. "I'm home."

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><p>Sara: I was really thinking of writing a short epilogue. Oh well. If you want it, please review and tell me. I hope you enjoyed this fic, and I pray that you're safe on this day, September 11, 2011.<p> 


	2. Live Like We're Dying

Sara: Hi guys! Happy Rosh Hashana!

Sky: This is the second chapter of Coming Home. Our rants will be at the end, but first we really want to thank KisunaFuji for reviewing, because it convinced us to write this chapter.

Sara: So thanks so much! We hope you enjoy this!

Disclaimer: You know the drill, don't you?

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><p>Coming Home<br>Chapter 2: Live Like We're Dying

I hate flying. Yes, I, the great Atobe Keigo, hate flying. I don't know if it's the sensation of the pressure dropping and my ears popping when the plane ascends and descends. I don't know if it's because of the occasional turbulence, the sense of being suffocated even when I own a private jet.

Maybe it's just the fear that I will never come down.

I took long, deep breaths as the jet rolled down the runway and launched itself into the air. I tried not to think of anything at all, nothing except for my Jiroh.

I felt guilty, of course. About everything. I had managed to neglect my boyfriend and treat him like crap for the past month all because my job had me running all over the world like a mad dog. I knew that he tried not to complain, tried to suck it up and be strong for me, but I knew that it hurt him to do so. I knew that most of the time he couldn't even go out without me because of his condition, and that he couldn't bear to look so weak in front of our friends. And I felt so guilty.

I would make it up to him on Wednesday, I decided this morning. I had made a promise that I intended to keep.

Closing my eyes, I imagined and dreamed and hoped that Wednesday would be perfect.

_The plane lands. I walk down the steps onto the tarmac, saying my usual, "Be awed by ore-sama's presence!" _

_The forecast the day before promised beautiful weather, and I can see that it is true. I can see the sunlight reflect in the eyes of the person I love the most in the world. His eyelids are drooping, but once he spots me the warm honey-brown orbs turn alert and excited._

_"Keigo!" he crows joyfully, and he nearly bowls me over in a bear hug. I laugh and wrap my arms around the shoulders that barely come to my chest._

_"I'm sorry I'm quite late. Stormy seas, you know. Did you miss me?" I whisper in the small man's ear, and he nods eagerly. He really is like a child, Jiroh is. Or maybe it's that I just had to grow up too soon._

_"Of course!" Laughter bubbles in my chest as Jiroh's enthusiasm begins to seep through me. But then I notice that other people are starting to stare and I straighten up immediately. A small hand takes mine, and I only just realize how much I miss that feeling of warmth. _

_"Can we go home now?" Jiroh asks, drawing closer to my side. I nod._

_"Home sounds good."_

_We walk to the car, and the driver gets out to put my luggage in the back. We still haven't kissed like most couples do when they are reunited, but all our love and pain is transmitted through the silence between us._

_Jiroh nuzzles closer to me, and it is surprising how perfect, how _right_ it feels for him to be there. I begin to doze with my head on his shoulder and jolt awake when the car stops._

_"Master Atobe. Master Jiroh." The chauffer opens the door for us and bows. We step out, and a furious twittering greets us._

_"Ne ne, do you see that kid? Akutagawa Jiroh? Apparently he's Atobe-sama's boyfriend."_

_"They've been dating for four years! And Akutagawa-sama moved in with Atobe-sama last month! Don't they look so perfect together?"_

_"Akutagawa-sama is so cute! He's like a little boy!"_

_Jiroh pays no attention to the whispers that are almost all about him. Perhaps he has gotten used to the gossip as much as I have over the past few years._

_We walk hand-in-hand to our suite – I have no patience for the paparazzi lurking in the elevators today – and Jiroh unlocks the door. It feels so good to be home again._

_"So… you promised me you'd make it up to me today," Jiroh says in a sweet voice. He flashes a smile my way, and I can feel my heart swell in my chest._

_I peck him on the cheek. "Ore-sama is going to treat _you_ today, Jiroh," I say. "You won't have to do anything but relax and let ore-sama do all the work."_

_"But you're _always_ doing work, Keigo," Jiroh complains._

_"But this time I'm working for _you_." I bend down to kiss him on the lips this time, and it surprises me how his body immediately reacts._

_His hands tangle in my hair, holding me with amazing strength for someone of his size. His lips part and our breaths mingle, and right now we're so close that we can hardly be counted as two separate beings. He breaks the kiss off, gasping for breath. I smirk and kiss the crook of his neck, since normally I am the one who pulls away first._

_Suddenly, I lift him off of his feet in a bridal style sort of way. He cries out in surprise and struggles for a moment before I dump him onto a chair in the kitchen. He straightens up to find me dolled up in an apron, rummaging through the refrigerator for ingredients. _

_"Atobe Keigo is actually _cooking_?" He perks up in interest and watches me cut up vegetables and descale two fish. _

_"My boyfriend deserves to be treated once in a while," I shrug and begin to stir the base of a soup._

_Dinner is on the table in about an hour. Jiroh is suspicious at first – understandable, of course, since he has never seen me even touch a stove before. It amuses me as he takes a cautious first bite of fried fish. His eyes widen as he adorably pries a fishbone from between his teeth._

_"This is _good_," he says in astonishment. I merely grin smugly in reply._

_After dinner and washing dishes like all cutesy television couples do, Jiroh wraps his arms around my neck and leans against my shoulder sleepily._

_"Thank you, Keigo," he murmurs indistinctly, and I press him closer to my chest. It's strange how I become so different around him, like my mask of power and arrogance is totally stripped from me under his innocent gaze._

_"I'm not done yet," I respond. I lift his face up to meet mine, and his eyes are curious, his head tilted to the side. "I'm sorry, Jiroh. For everything."_

_And I lean down to claim his lips again._

"Master Atobe… Master Atobe, we've arrived."

A soft voice woke me up from my sweet dream, and I glared at the culprit. A steward stood with his hand almost touching my shoulder, and he recoiled when I looked like I wanted to bite it off.

"The next time you wake ore-sama up like that," I said dangerously, venom dripping from my tone, "ore-sama is going to personally gut you and feed you to the fishes."

./. .\.

Monday evening and Tuesday morning passed in a blur of papers and meetings and clueless secretaries. I can't even remember what I talked about half the time, just that I was exhausted and I wanted to go home and I was going to strangle Itsuki when I had the chance.

I sighed as I took the floor again. What did I need to talk about again? I panicked. I glanced down at my notes and began to sound like I knew everything about our business model, when really my mind was a haze of nothing but Jiroh.

I was relieved when the meeting was let out for a break – thank goodness, I thought. I pulled on the collar of my dress shirt as I went outside, already pressing the keys of my mobile. I had already called Jiroh earlier that day, but I just wanted to hear his voice. What time would it be in Japan? I thought. Nine-thirty? Ten? Some time around there.

Something droned above me, much too loud in my ears. It sounded like a plane, but what plane would come that close to the ground in the middle of the city…?

A sound unlike anything I've ever heard reached my ears, and I had the urge to cringe into the ground it was so loud. It was like the screeching of metal and the groan of steel...

… and a cloud of white billowed through the city…

I looked up and saw the Twin Towers, smoke pouring out of the North Tower. Flames licked the side of the building, and a jarring hole had been punched through the metal.

_There are people in that building!_ I thought frantically once my mind cleared of its stupor. _Ootori! Shishido! Kabaji!_

My friends, my extended family… they might die if they stay in there.

I walked into the thick white fog against the crowd, barely paying attention as people ran into me and yelled in English. My phone was long forgotten.

There were already policemen and firemen collecting around the building, telling everyone that it was okay, it was all right, they could all go back to their desks and continue working. When one particularly irritable man in a blue uniform spotted me, he nearly shoved me into the ground. _Me_, Atobe Keigo. Who did he think he was?

"I'm sorry sir," he said dully. "My orders are to not anyone into the building."

"Excuse me," I huffed in an important tone. "My name is Keigo Atobe, and I'm the CEO of the Atobe Corporation. I have the authority to enter this building at any time, especially when my colleagues are inside. And whose idiotic orders are to keep people out but the workers in? If you hadn't noticed, a passenger plane just crashed into the _World Trade Center_, and if you don't do anything now, people will _die_ and blood will be on your hands."

"Um… um…" the man stuttered as I towered over him. _No one_ pushed ore-sama around. No one.

"_Let these people out. Now._"

"Y-yes Mr. Atobe sir!"

He scuttled away to recite the orders to his fellow policemen, and I pushed my way into the building. Men in blue uniforms were scattered around the lobby, shouting and creating utter chaos. Knowing that the elevator would shut down in an emergency, I took the stairs three at a time until I reached the fifteenth floor – one of the benefits of being an ex tennis player is that you develop amazing stamina.

"_Ootori! Shishido! Kabaji!_"

"_Atobe?_"

There was a profuse amount of smoke in the air, and I had to pull my shirt over my face. Already my suit began to stick to my skin in the uncomfortable heat.

"_Shishido!_" I called in relief. "_Is that you?_"

"_Yes_," came the equally relieved reply. "_We're locked in the conference room, but Ootori's fainted and Kabaji is trying to break the door down!_"

I ran to a door on my right and pulled on the handle – only to pull back again, as it felt as though my hand had been submerged in fire. Putting the back of my hand to the door, I tried to think quickly just like my father would have told me to. How could you break a door whose hinges were melted in place?

It was getting hard to breathe, and suddenly I knew why Ootori had fainted.

"Kabaji!" I roared over the din of the flames in the floors above us. I snapped my fingers, and knew that my loyal friend would hear it.

With the noise of wrenching metal and splintering wood, the door was blasted off of its hinges, Kabaji plummeting in the hallway. He blinked piously for a few seconds, and went back inside the room to retrieve an unconscious Ootori and a faint Shishido.

"Go!" I cried. "Go, Kabaji, and take Shishido with you! I'll take care of Ootori!"

"Usu."

But Shishido wouldn't have it.

"What the hell are you doing, Atobe?" he roared. The crashing, the screaming, kept growing louder and louder so we had to shout to hear each other. "Save yourself, I'll help him!"

I shook my head, supporting the unconscious man and throwing him over my shoulder. I staggered under the dead weight, but I had carried heavier things before. Kabaji, ever loyal to his master, grabbed Shishido by the arm and dragged him out of the room, the latter shouting half-uttered protests in the process.

I grunted in exertion as I tried – tried being the key word – to carry Ootori out of the room. My Lord, he was _heavy_! Perhaps not playing tennis since high school did that to you.

Someone in a tweed suit whipped past me and through the window just then. I couldn't do anything, couldn't even blink. Just watch in horror as the man fell to his death.

"What are you waiting for?" a voice cried angrily behind me. "Jump!"

I whipped around and glanced back at the tear-stained face of a businessman named Smith or Johnson or something like that. He was trembling head to foot and his suit was covered in ash.

"So, what are you waiting for?" Smith or Johnson or whatever repeated in a hysterical voice.

"I'm not jumping!" I replied. When he made to push past me, I held him back with some difficulty – Ootori's head was still lolling on my shoulder, after all.

"No! Let – me – go – !"

Instead, I towed him by the arm behind me while Ootori slowly roused. I set him on his feet, since my back was almost to the breaking point, and he stumbled around before regaining his balance.

"Atobe!" he started. Then he saw Smith/Johnson/whatever and pinned his other arm to his side to make my life a bit easier. The man stopped struggling then, so Ootori and I half-carried him to the stairwell.

And then we met a wall of fire.

The heat was oppressive. Immense. I already began to sweat copiously under three layers of clothing, and my throat felt rubbed and raw.

"_This way!_" I cried, pointing in the opposite direction, where hopefully the staircase wasn't blocked by flames. We tripped over to the stairs, holding our breaths against the smoke that threatened to suffocate us. Oh gosh, the staircase wasn't blocked!

Something exploded behind us. Red filled my vision. Tears streamed down my face and into my shirt…

And I breathed in fresh air. We all took a long, deep breath and it tasted as sweet as ambrosia. The smell of smoke and dust assaulted my nostrils, and I realized how _close_ Death had just come to claiming me for his own.

Shishido and Kabaji reached us first. Then Smith/Johnson's wife. Then the police and fire squad.

It was a moment that would last forever. The moment we escaped from Death.

./. .\.

I watched the Twin Towers fall, both the North and the South. It was almost as if the entire city held its breath as a cloud of white engulfed anyone who was in a certain radius. The police had kept me at the scene, so my Armani suit was immediately covered in a powdery white.

All I wanted to do was go home.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Atobe," a policeman said audaciously. "No planes are leaving the city at this time!"

_Ugh!_

"Kabaji!" I called over a sea of heads.

"Usu…" came the response just behind my shoulder. I whirled around and faced my loyal friend, my tone immediately becoming authoritative and Atobe-ish.

"I want you to take us to my private jet, Kabaji, and get us out of the city!" I ordered.

"Usu!"

./. .\.

Not two hours later, I was already aboard my private jet, my luggage in the above compartment and one of the stewardesses serving me champagne and caviar, which I rudely declined. I looked over to Ootori and Shishido, who were sleeping on each other's shoulders with soft eyes. My two best associates had decided to start dating after they graduated high school and, like Jiroh and I, they've been inseparable ever since.

Jiroh…

I closed my heavy eyelids and felt an overwhelming amount of emotion wash over me, nearly suffocating me. Jiroh, my best friend, my lover, the person who I had ignored almost completely for the past month. He never complained, never said a word, because he loved me too much, he trusted me too much.

He could never fight me.

_"Ne, Keigo, what do you have in mind here?" Jiroh asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes and bouncing his racket on his knees. He looks happy on the tennis courts as he stares into my eyes, surveying. I try to tear my gaze from those warm brown irises, and I know that if he just looks at me like he is now I will give him everything. Anything. _

_"I just want to play a friendly match with you, Jiroh," I answer vaguely, turning around. I can feel anger and irritation surge through my body, surprising me. Where had all that emotion come from? Over the past year, Jiroh's disease had gone haywire, making him tired all the time. We couldn't do anything anymore, especially because of my work and his sleeping habits… I want to lie up next to him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear like we used to, but now that seems impossible._

_"Keigo?" I hear behind me. I sigh and turn around._

_"Yes, Jiroh?"_

_The small man grins and waves at me with his racket. "Nothing, Keigo," he says brightly. "I love you."_

_The words wrench at my heart, and I suddenly feel like I want to cry. Instead, I toss the ball high in the air and hit a serve._

_"Out!" Jiroh calls. I growl and serve again. My shots are powerful and angry, and Jiroh can feel it even across the other side of the net. After I win the point, he looks at me in bewilderment. _

_"Keigo…?"_

_I ignore him and take my spot on the baseline. "Fifteen-love!" I shout so he can hear. I take the next three points easily, and call the score: "One-love!"_

_"Keigo!"_

_"Just play, Jiroh!" I retort. "Play, and win against me!"_

_He grips the ball tightly in his hand, his fingers not even long enough to clasp the thing all the way, and he serves and makes a service dash._

_I pound the ball to his right side, and if it isn't for his soft wrists, I could have broken his hands._

_"Keigo!" he cries out, whimpering in pain. Oh, how the noise infuriates me! How could I fall in love with such a softie? _

_"Play, Jiroh!" I cry in rage. "Fight, goddammit! Win!"_

_"I can't!"_

_I want to leap over the net and shake his frail body, because if he keeps telling himself that he can't, how will he ever succeed? How many times has my father told me the same thing!_

_He serves again and runs to the net. Silly boy! With the way I'm hitting my shots, I _will_ break his wrists! And what a waste that would be for the tennis world._

_"Keigo, stop it!" Jiroh cries out again, and I can see the sparkle of tears on his thin face. How did it get so thin? I wonder. How long ago had he last eaten a full meal?_

_"No!" I roar, and I take the next four games and three points from him without a second thought._

_Another serve. Another service dash. He takes my powerful forehand full-force with his beanpole wrist, and the ball soars high above my head. _

_"Be awed by ore-sama's prowess!" I shout out of habit. It surprises me how long I had gone without saying my favourite phrase. It has been a long time since I last played tennis._

_I smash the ball, aiming for Jiroh's wrist. Even though I can hear something crack, I don't hesitate as the ball comes up to me again and I smash it into the corner._

_"Game and match, 6-0," I whisper, mostly to myself, as I land lightly on my feet. With a tinge of horror threatening in my chest, I take in the sight before me. _

_Jiroh falls to the ground in a small heap, shaking with silent sobs. My shoulders slump and I breathe hard through my nose, and I can't even move to comfort him._

_After what seems like an eternity, I toddle over to take his shoulders gently in my hands. He flinches away, and I can't blame him. I would not be surprised if runs away screaming, "Monster!" For that's what I am. I hurt him._

_"Jiroh…"_

_His wrist is red and swollen, and I tenderly massage it between my fingers. More tears leak out of his closed eyes and he presses his lips into a tight line, but he doesn't utter a single sound. _

_The entire walk home, I don't say sorry. I really want to, though. I want to tell him that I'm sorry I hurt him, I'm sorry I _have_ been hurting him, I'm sorry that I can't say sorry for hurting him._

_He knows._

./. .\.

When I arrived home, I saw my curly-haired angel curled up into a ball on the sofa. One of the servants, whose name eludes me, came up to me like he was seeing a ghost.

"Master Atobe!" he gaped as he took in my stark-white hair and clothing. For all he knew, I could have been a ghost. But I only had eyes for Jiroh.

I reached down to touch his shoulder, and I took his right hand in mine. I kneaded the pliable wrist with my fingers, guilt uncomfortably blocking my throat. He took no notice, didn't even stir, and I could see his face was streaked with dried tears.

"Jiroh…" I whispered, desperate to rouse him.

His head snaps up at this, and his bloodshot eyes looked into mine. They were wide with fear, disbelief, hope. I smiled at him and took him into my arms, hoping that every single emotion I felt for him was conveyed in this one hug. It was quiet for a long time, and all I could think about was how warm his body was against mine, how perfectly our arms fit together, and how grateful I was that I was still alive.

"I'm home, Jiroh," I murmured into his soft curls, pressing him tighter to my body. "I'm home."

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><p>Sara: This chapter is all over the place! And it might not be all that realistic. Sorry! It was the best I could do though, school is totally dominating my life at the moment! ^^'<p>

Sky: Hopefully we'll have a third and last chapter up... soon.

Sara: Like two or three weeks soon? ^^' Gomenasai for the long wait, we'll make sure it's a good chapter for you all :3 And also... happy early birthday Atobe Keigo! xx One day I hope that Jiroh will bake you a huge birthday cake and, and...

Sky: I suppose you don't want to finish that thought. Anyways... review please! It'll make us write all that much faster :)


	3. Honey, I'm Home

Sara: Hey all! Sorry for not updating for so long.

Sky: Anyways, this is the last chapter of Coming Home.

Sara: It's not quite up to par with the rest of the story, and it's a bit short, but we hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: You know the drill, don't you?

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><p>Coming Home<br>Chapter 3: Honey, I'm Home

"Honey, I'm home."

I smiled at that lofty singsong voice, a voice that belonged in a black and white television show, that now could only belong to Keigo. Really, he knew how to make an entrance!

"Welcome home," I answered, not moving from my position in front of the window. I stared out at that familiar skyline, the skyline that now seemed to be missing something. Warmth enveloped me as Keigo took me in his arms, and I leaned my head against his chest.

"Welcome home," I repeated drowsily. Keigo gave me a peck on the cheek in response, and it was enough to make my heart beat faster, my breathing hitch in my throat. God, how I loved him, how he never failed to make me feel this way.

But please understand, it wasn't always this way.

After the September 11th attacks, Keigo stayed home from work – understandably, of course. For the majority of a month, he rarely did anything but stay in his room, blankly staring at the ceiling when he wasn't sleeping. It took all of my energy to persuade him to eat, to talk to me, but he refused to say a word. I thought about Munehiro and Ryou and Choutarou, who all seemed a bit shaken but otherwise fine. In the end, I left him alone until he was ready.

That month was lonely. I was scared – no, deathly terrified – that I had somehow lost my Keigo in the Twin Towers. Who was this man, this stranger who walked around the house like the living dead? Where was my Keigo, who had promised to make everything up to me after he came back from New York?

Perhaps that was selfish. Perhaps I should have been more patient with him. But I yearned to touch him, to hold him, to tell him that everything was all right. I yearned to start over with him and return to the days of meaningless babble and sweet kisses. But how could I help him? I could only wait.

My patience was rewarded one day in early October, when he finally came out of his room. I remember I was sitting on the couch, reading up on the latest news. I looked up, expecting to see a servant, but my eyes widened when it was _Keigo_. He collapsed into my arms, and I let him, and he told me every horrible thing that happened in those towers. I listened until he was done and his tears were dried. Inside me was a shocking mix of fear and sadness and happiness and hope that I had never felt before – it both scared and concerned me.

And then he looked me in the eyes. I had never seen anything so dead as those deep grey irises. They held things that I would never be able to understand, things that would be too _horrific _to understand.

The next months were… shaky, to say the least. We stayed friends at best, even though we still lived together. It was a silent decision that I would sleep in the guest bedroom, and he would avoid me for the rest of the day. Really, not much had changed from before the attacks, did it?

But one day, when I felt like I was going to burst from the suspense, I took Keigo by the shoulders and kissed him so fiercely, holding him so tight that he wouldn't be able to escape.

To my surprise, he kissed back. It was a desperate clash of teeth and tongue, and I could taste relief and longing on him. We didn't let go of each other the entire night. It felt nice, just to feel the warmth, the love again. Oh, how I'd been missing it.

"Jirou?"

That voice cut through my thoughts, and I gave him the sunniest smile I could manage. He was looking at me with a mixture of concern and adoration on his face that I felt like I didn't deserve. I had been horrible to him, and I felt guilt constrain my throat. How could I ever live up to the expectations of the great Atobe Keigo?

He smiled back at me, something that seemed so rare nowadays. Again, I felt my stupid, cliché heart pound against my chest, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he had felt it, too.

"Nothing," he whispered as he pressed his face into my curls, his breath tickling my face. "I love you."

A smile spread across my lips, and I chuckled at the declaration. It was so… un-Keigo-ish. Before, ore-sama would never have said it so blatantly without my initiation. I snuggled into his broad chest and entwined my hand in his – again, a once condemned gesture.

New York City sprawled before us, our home for almost a year. It was nighttime, but the city was still alive with noise and lights. Most prominently, two beams of light shot into the sky, filling an empty space in the New York skyline.

"You don't know what you have until you lose it."

Keigo's voice shocked me. It had a strangely dead quality about it. I leaned my head up to gaze into his dark grey eyes, hooded with the sort of emptiness that I feared. He tightened his grip around me, and I squeezed his hand in response. Reassured, Keigo looked me in the eyes again.

It was just like that day, when he came home after I thought I had lost him. It was the same sort of feeling. We didn't have to kiss, to speak, but I knew what he wanted to say. _I love you_, I thought with all my might, knowing that he would hear me. _I love you, I love you, I love you…_

We weren't perfect – far from it, actually. But something about that day, September 11, 2001, saved our relationship. It was a gift and a curse, in a way, taking so many lives yet bringing loved ones closer together.

_You don't know what you have until you lose it._

I placed my hand on my beloved's, reveling in the warmth, and together we gazed out at our city, our home – New York.

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><p>Sara: Last chapter :D First of my multis I've finished lol. We hope you guys enjoyed this story! And remember, comments are always welcome :3 (Anonymous reviewers are turned on too!)<p> 


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